Unbalanced
by Heartless Shinra Alchemist
Summary: New addition to the Succession series. It seemed that his equation would be unbalanced without her variable...


He woke to an immense pain, a large pressure upon his back.

_Pressure. Atmospheres, millimeters of mercury, newtons per square inch..._

Struggling, Sho attempted to pull his fractured memory together. Piece by piece, polynomial by polynomial, it aligned into a balanced equation.

_Running. Excitement. A noise. Footsteps. Konishi? The zeros? A chuckle. "No! I erased you!"_

_"As if you were ever capable of doing that." The grin widened; a hand raised. "It's long since due that you've been factored from this equation." A flash of light. Pain. Back wrenching, mind rending, heartstopping existancerippinglifeerasingheadsplittingin...two._

_Two plus two is four. Two times two is four. Two to the second power is four. Two plus two minus two is two. Two._

He had two minutes before the pressure factored him out, if his permutations were correct. And they were always correct. Metal pressed him down, metal he had no chance of lifting by himself. Pushing up on his elbows in a herculean effort to look around, he uttered the one word he hated the most.

"Help..." His voice was more like a wheeze than a shout. No one came, which was completely within reason. Not only was he one of the least liked Reapers in the Game, but all the others were probably spouting off Kitaniji's nonsense, thanks to the O-pins he handed out. In fact, the probability of his living was less than--

"Minamimoto-sensei?" A voice rang out, a voice that seemed saintly to Sho's dying ears. From the edges of his vision, a figure appeared, hurrying to his side. Some of the pressure eased as the other lifted some of the metal from his back. "Sensei, what happened to you?"

"Shut up and get this offa me, you hectopascal," Sho grunted, helping as best he could. A small part of his mind suggested that insulting his savior was a _very_ bad idea, but at the moment he was too grumpy to care. The other didn't seem to mind, however, and obeyed his words. Through their joint effort, they managed to pull most of the heap off of him, though the action left both spent and sprawled upon the ground. For the first time, Sho bothered to look over the other Reaper.

He was surprised to note that he knew her. The long black hair and sorrowful grey eyes revealed her identity to be Haruhi Tamasaki, a lesser Reaper assigned as his assistant the week before. He had spent less than a few minutes in her presence, however, claiming that he had no need of a GM's assistant. Although he was aware of her constant presence throughout the previous Game, he had given her no thought at all. Now here she was, collapsed on the floor after saving his life, and now that his life was no longer in danger, that nagging part of his mind was stronger. Sho felt the tugging urge to apologize, but had no idea how. Even in life, he had never been particularly good at sentiments.

"Uhm..." At the sound of his voice, Haruhi bolted up, eyes focused intently upon him.

"Yes, Sensei?" Sho paused to chuckle at the sight, for her loyalty was ridiculous. Her face remained neutral as he laughed; she was apparently content to wait his laughing fit out.

"Sit down, moron," he said, pulling himself into a seated position. She did as commanded, folding her legs under her in a graceful motion. Sho let the silence build, choosing his words carefully.

"Thank you," he started, staring down at the floor. He could feel his anger build, but he was determined not to let it get the better of him. At that moment, Haruhi was his only ally, and it would be incredibly foolish to scare her off now. The Composer could appear to finish off what he had started any minute now. "Without your addition, I'd probably be a negative integer by now."

For a moment, Haruhi looked surprised. Then her face split into a beaming grin. "No problem, sir," she replied, bowing her head. "It's my job as your assistant to help you out in any way possible." Sho frowned.

"What jargon is this? That's no longer your vector." Haruhi shook her head.

"No one gave me another assignment. In fact, last week's job was the only assignment I've ever been given. So it still is my 'vector', I guess." She stood, brushing at her jeans with a business-like air. "Is there anything else that you would require?"

"Heh." Sho followed suit, moving to stand. In the process, his legs caved out from under him, weakened from the immense weight that had been pressing on him for so long. He collapsed, causing Haruhi to jump in surprise. She hurried forward, wrapping her arms about his shoulders in attempt to help him stand. Angrily, he pushed her aside. "I don't need assistance. I can solve this myself." Haruhi nodded, stepping back timidly. Sho struggled, aware of his audience and determined to prove that he needed no help. After nearly five minutes of painful effort, he managed to stand. He stood, albeit in a wobbly fashion, for a minute before he lost his balance and went crashing towards the floor.

But she was there to catch him, giving him a shoulder to lean on and saving him from the indignity of smashing face-first into the ground. "If I may be so bold," she started, "I think that just this once you may need my assistance. You've obviously been through a lot." From her shoulder, Minamimoto shot her a death glare.

"Go factor yousel--"

His vision went black.

- - -

He awoke to the sound of food being cooked. Not only food, though, _good _food. Like the kind his mother would make so many years ago. For a moment, Sho fancied himself in his old bed, in his old life, and his family waiting for him as soon as he opened his eyes. It was foolish, but he wished for it anyway.

He took his time getting up; after all, his legs were still quite weak from his last encounter with the Composer, but in time, the smell of the food broke his reverie and he stumbled out of bed with a groan.

Immediately he was aware of Haruhi's presence beside him, the girl hovering nervously by his side. "Sensei," she cautioned, sounding just as nervous as she appeared. "Perhaps you should let me help you up?" A question was toned in her voice, wishing for askance before aiding him. He shook his head gruffly.

"No. This zetta hurts, but the only way for my power to multiply is by my own calculation." He hazarded at a smile, though he could tell that he was failing miserably. "That, uh-- smells zetta good." Haruhi moved back, clearing the path for him, but still following behind like a stalwart shadow.

"Thank you, Sensei. It's an old western recipe, known for aiding those with drained strength. They call it chicken soup. Would you like some?" The concern in her voice was concealed, dominated by the ever-present professionalism. When Sho inclined his head, though, she smiled, and bustled over to prepare him some of the ambrosial broth. By the time she had set the bowl down next to a large chunk of grainy bread, Sho had made his way to the table. He stared dubiously at the yellow soup filled with floating chunks of random vegetables and neatly cubed chicken, uncertain if he really wanted to eat it. After all, this could have been another attempt of eliminating him, for it was certain that the girl had absolutely no reason to be loyal to him at all. But Haruhi merely made another bowl for herself, sitting upon the kitchen counter to eat her own portion.

"Hey, what're you doing up there, digit?" For some reason, the fact that she wouldn't eat at the same table with him just pissed him off, and he glared at her over his shoulder. Haruhi bowed her head.

"It would be impolite and intrusive for me to eat with you, sir. No, I will eat here, and leave you in peace." Sho's golden eyes narrowed as he continued to glare. After a minute or so, the former GM stood, bringing his bowl of soup with him. Limping, he made his way to the counter beside Haruhi., muttering to himself along the way.

"_..zetta stupid, vectored hectopascal..._" he grumbled, settling himself beside her with a grimace. "Stop being a moron," he growled in her direction, "or I'm gonna have to factor you out of this equation." The bowl of soup now nestled in his lap, he dunked the spoon into the broth, tasting the food delicately. A genuine smile split his face, and he greedily spooned for more. "Though I must say, moron or not, you make zetta good soup."

Haruhi looked away, her face hidden by a curtain of raven hair. A smile could be seen through the gaps of her hair, though, as she continued to eat in silence. Her silence was odd, and the puzzled Sho continued to stare at her for a few more minutes before returning to his soup. Everything about this Haruhi was confusing, from her somewhat stark professionalism to the slender fingers that held lightly onto her spoon. Not for the first time, he wondered what it was that made her loyal. Any other Reaper he knew (with the workaholic Yashiro as the one exception) would have exalted in the freedom of a week without an assignment, but she had shadowed him constantly, and even saved him from a second death. What did she stand to gain?

Frustrated with the attempt to fathom his new cohort, Sho angrily consumed his portion, gruffly demanding for more. She nodded and slid lightly from the counter, moving to the simmering pot at the stove. For all her confusing habits, Sho had to admit that she was exceptionally graceful, in a somewhat sad way. She had the air of a wraith about her, gentle and sorrowful, and the eyes of a banshee. His thoughts continued in this way until he mentally berated himself. As a wise man once said, love was garbage, and it was only supposed to be crunched and added to the heap. The nagging part of his brain brought up that the so-called 'wise man' was no other than himself, who had made quite a few errors in judgment recently, but he muffled it out with thoughts of the second bowl of soup that Haruhi had handed him.

- - -

For the first time in his life, Sho was completely unsure of what to do. No longer among the living, he had no responsibilities that accompanied such existence. However, now he didn't even have the Game to occupy his time. He was bored, and that was the worst possible curse to one such as him. In an attempt to keep himself occupied, he had taken up solving whatever math problem he could find, sometimes even having Haruhi come up with some for him. And though she tried her hardest, she was, in a simple fact, not nearly as fast or advanced as Sho required. It was getting to the point that he was considering taking up sudoku, that foul and abhorrent square game, to occupy his time.

He was also experiencing the worst case of cabin fever in history. Haruhi had him under house arrest, both to keep him out from under the Composer's nose and to also speed up the healing process. Minamimoto was walking for longer periods of time, and in a much more sturdy fashion, but his 'assistant' claimed that he would likely walk with a slight limp for the rest of his life. Without any knowledge of whether or not the girl had any sort of medical credentials, Sho was prone to believing that she was full of crap, and was determined to prove her wrong. On the proving her wrong, he was making absolutely no progress, but he blamed it on his inability to get out and walk on the open streets.

When she finally relented on allowing him outside for a walk, she had insisted upon going with him, walking quietly beside him. In the blazing heat of the summer, though, she still wore a long-sleeved shirt. Upon Sho's questioning, she had turned a very slight shade of pink and said nothing. Loping up the street of Dogenzaka, Minamimoto was overwhelmed by curiosity, and though he said nothing more, he was determined to get the answer out of her soon.

Unfortunately, he couldn't keep up pace for very long. When little sparks of pain started to shoot up his legs, Sho suggested they stop at a small cafe on the end of the street. Haruhi gave a quick nod of acquiescence, and hurriedly entered the shop.

They grabbed two bowls of smooth ice cream and went to sit in the shaded outdoor area, sheathed in a somewhat awkward silence. Sho found himself choosing his words carefully, unsure of how to approach his companion. She was unusually evasive about her choice of clothing, and he didn't want to close her off from the topic forever. His insatiable curiosity had always been a weak point.

"So, are you one of those people who are always cold?" he asked, for once, leaving out the math references. Difficult as it was, he wanted the conversation to move along without her being confused over his word choice. Though admittedly, she was better at interpreting him than most others. Haruhi merely shook her head, plucking at her sleeve as she stared out into the crowd before her. She looked more uncertain than he had ever seen her, so he gave her the time she needed to respond.

"I..." she stared, her grey eyes moving downward. Her gaze remained fixed on the pavement for a moment before she collected herself enough to look into his eyes. "I can't be erased."

"Whaa?" Part of Sho's calm slipped, leaving him looking incredibly confused. "You can't be erased? What the hell does--"

"It was my entry fee," she responded sadly, her gaze slipping once more.

"Entry fee?" Sho inquired, somewhat perturbed. "What, your ability to be erased was what was most important to you? Seems a bit idiotic to me."

Haruhi laughed, a bitter and somewhat cold bark. "Not my ability to be erased, really. My ability to cease to exist. I can't ever go away; I can't truly die." She tugged at her sleeve, pulling it down to reveal three parallel scars down her wrists. "To someone who omitted suicide, it was the worst punishment they could find." Sho, for the first time, was completely without words. Suicide? It was so unexpected, and it seemed so...not Haruhi. The girl appeared so strong, and yet it seemed that, on the inside, she was more fragile than even his own sanity.

More surprising, however, was his own reaction. Never before did Minamimoto actually _care_. He had stuck by his adage about such weak emotions being garbage. CRUNCH. Add it to the heap. Yet it took effort to squash the sympathy and warmth welling inside him for his poor assistant. Effort that only felled his anger towards the soft part of his mind that seemed to be getting so damned influential recently. He pushed aside his feelings with discus, and got up from the table. "This is no longer our vector. Let's leave before the equation gets any less balanced."

Oddly, the girl seemed relieved, and swept from her seat, leaving a few yen pins on the table for the waiter to pick up. They walked on in silence, and didn't speak at all for the rest of the day.

- - -

Their existence together was much more strained from that point. Haruhi, seemingly ashamed by her admittance to death by her own hand, was more than happy to spend the days in constrained quiet, and Sho spent far too much of his time trying to fight the losing battle against the ever-increasing weakening of his own beliefs. More than once he caught himself about to utter a soothing word to comfort Haruhi, anything to erase the lines of pain that formed on her face. True to her prediction, Sho's legs healed, but he continued to limp slightly. Now fully capable, he often strode the small apartment that they managed to procure through Haruhi's manipulation of lesser Noise. They survived on the yen pins lifted from fallen Players and inattentive Reapers. Sho had taken to writing on the walls in chalk, leaving long equations that took up entire rooms and often several days for him to figure out. He began to wonder if that was how it was going to be; the two of them would live in this tiny apartment until they both went slowly insane from the silence. Telling himself that his state of boredom was more important than the increasing _niceness_ in his mind, he approached Haruhi and spoke a full sentence for the first time in nearly a month.

"I think we should...find an equation to plug ourselves into," he said, somewhat uncertainly. Haruhi, obviously startled from the sound of his voice, stared at him dumbly. Realizing his mistake, Sho cleared his throat. "I think we should find jobs."

Haruhi turned, resuming her routine cleaning of the spotless kitchen. It was a moment before she spoke, as if she was uncertain if she still had a voice. "Why would you say that, Sensei?"

Sho repressed the urge to shout: _Because we're both going completely insane!_ But saying so would imply that he felt some sort of concern for her, which the sane part of his mind certainly did not, and he did _not_ want to deal with that can of worms. "I'm bored," he replied simply. Haruhi stopped cleaning, her hand going to her face.

"I can understand," she replied, her words partially muffled by her hand. "I'm certainly not what would be considered high-rate company." She sniffed, and for one horrid moment, Sho thought she might cry. But Haruhi merely turned and smiled, pulling at a lock of her hair. "I'll see what I can do." And before the awful silence could swallow the room again, Sho patted the girl on the head and muttered a quick thanks.

- - -

At first, Sho hated his job, but he had to admit that it was better than the hollow existence he had lived in the apartment. At least now he could hate it in the open air with occasional breaks, instead of being cooped up in a small room with a severely depressed immortal. Slowly, though, he began to grow accustomed to dealing with the hordes of people who came to the face, sometimes even hazarding at conversation. After botching the first few, Sho had become quite adept at speaking like a normal person, though he still threw in the occasional '_Some old horses can always hear their owners approach_'. Most people took it as some obscure proverb, or a neat adage, and he was even beginning to enjoy some of his discussions with them. He found that he actually enjoyed people, especially when said person had a brain. So he came to enjoy his waitering job, if only for the steady companionship it provided.

While clearing off a table of a particularly nasty couple who kept demanding refills, Sho bumped into a smallish teenage girl. Both fell to the floor with a grunt, and the first to stand was Minamimoto, apologizing and asking the patron if she was okay. She nodded, green eyes glancing up at him from behind large round glasses. Clutching to a stuffed (was it a cat or a pig?) ...whatever it was, she stood. Blushing, she hastened for the door of the cafe, only to be escorted back out into the outdoor seating area, in Sho's own section. Looking around for any other customers, Sho approached the table.

"What'll it--uh--be?" The girl glanced at him over the menu she had been staring at.

"Water," she replied, her voice still a bit uneven. Sho nodded, pulling a pad out to jot down anything else. She mumbled something about wanting a few more minutes to look at the menu. Placing the pad in his pocket, Sho made his way to the kitchen to get the girl a glass. As he did so, he puzzled over the girl's identity. She seemed so familiar, yet he swore that he'd never met her. It was probably that damned toy, for that thing gave him the oddest sense of deja vous. Likely it was something he'd seen in the window of some department store on his way to work. The cold glass in hand, he made his way back to the table. Staring into the crowd, the girl was absentmindedly playing with a lock of her hair.

_Who could have done this?_

The memory hit him like a brick in the face. He knew her voice, though he had never actually seen her face. She was the companion of the zero with the orange hair. Recalling the discussion that occurred while he was too weak to even open his eyes, Sho was filled with rage. The hand that held the glass began to shake, and it was only when his hand started to get wet from the spilling water that he even tried to calm down. Still bristling, he set the drink in front of her, gruffly asking if she knew what she wanted. Quietly, she ordered a western-style sandwich, handing him the menu with an award smile.

Attempting to calm his anger, Sho placed her order at the kitchen, then moved to clear off tables in his area. Noticing that she needed a refill, he approached the table, his hand outstretched to snatch the glass.

"Uhm--" the girl's face was concealed as she looked down at the floor, though he could see that it was beet red. "Are you, by any chance, the Grim Heaper?"

Taken aback, Sho stared at the girl, looking quite stunned. "The Grim...Heaper? What?" The girl shook her head in a self-detrimental fashion.

"No, not the Grim Heaper..." she appeared to wrack her brain for something else to call him. "Well, Beat calls you 'Tabooty', but that's not your name either..." At the sound of the former Reaper, Minamimoto laughed. He couldn't help it; Daisukenojo Bito was the epitome of a failure in Reaper terms. But the girl had taken the laugh as an encouragement, and she gathered herself, apparently remembering his name. "What I mean is, is your name Minamimoto-san, by any chance?"

Sho nodded, trying to seem neutral. Though he was still filled with anger, he was learning that exploding was not always the best option, although it certainly could be more satisfactory in some cases. The girl, unaware of Sho's inner struggle, smiled warmly.

"That's good," she said, her voice genuine. "We were thinking you were dead."

"I _am_ dead," he retorted, attempting at humor. The girl didn't seem to understand at all. Sighing, Sho explained. "You have to be dead to enter the Game, right?" A look of understanding dawned on her face, along with the strengthening of her blush.

"Oh. Right."

Silence fell, and Sho went to refill her drink. No more words passed between them as he gave her her food, and she said nothing as she left, leaving a hefty sum on the table as a tip.

- - -

And thus began the regular visitations of Shiki Misaki. She came every few days, making sure to sit in his section, and made small talk with him, though as time passed, their conversations began to cover more important things. They discussed current events, and more importantly, people. Many an argument had been started over the merits of Neku Sakuraba. It took Sho no time at all to realize that she was head over heels for the orange-haired brat, and after that, he tried his best to not say as many harsh words about the grumpy teen. But it was so hard, it was almost painful.

One afternoon, Shiki finally raised the gall to ask Sho what his problem with Neku was. Sighing, the Reaper sat beside the young teenager. "I guess it's somewhat because I was supposed to. And 'cause I've always hated people. But now it's mostly..." he grimaced, "...because he stole my hat." _Beat._

Shiki began to laugh hysterically. Collapsed onto the table, she giggled incessantly as a very bewildered Sho looked on. Slowly, Sho's confusion melted into a glare of anger.

"Hey," he growled, tugging self-conciously at his uniform. "That's not funny! What if it had been your little stuffed...pig...kitty...thing...? Eh? You wouldn't be laughing then, you son of a digit!" Standing up angrily, he moved to serve another table, but Shiki stopped him.

"No...no," she gasped, trying to regain her voice. "It's not that. I merely found it funny that you, of all people, would hold a grudge over a hat. You seem...I dunno...too nonchalant for that."

"Nonchalant? The hell you talking about? Apparently, you don't know me in the slightest." Sho felt a blush strike his cheeks at Shiki's comment. It was the fist time she even somewhat complimented him.

"Well," she studied his face, eyes concerned. "You're not completely the same person I was told about by Neku and Beat. First off, you only rarely spout off any sort of math jargon, and secondly..." she trailed off, as if unsure of what to say. "You're nicer. Calmer. Like you've grown up a bit."

"Are you saying that I was childish?"

"Well, yes." She blushed. "At least from what I was--uh--told."

Sho frowned. "Lies. They're all lies. Don't believe a word of what Orangeylocks says." Shiki giggled.

"No, I suppose that at least some of them are true, though possibly exaggerated. Don't worry, I don't think any less of you."

_You don't think any less of me?! Why, you little hectopascal, I oughtta--_ Carefully, calmly, Sho silenced his anger, though he still felt uncertain about it. His mind had almost completely been taken over by the soft emotions he once termed as garbage. The only thing that kept him going now was habit. He briefly though of how unfair he had been to Haruhi, and determined to apologize as soon as he got of work.

Yep. He had completely gone off the deep end.

"...talk to Neku about it," Shiki was saying, gathering her things. She handed Sho the tip. "Take care, Minamimoto-san!" Gently, as if worried about scaring a wild animal, she placed a small kiss on his cheek. Then she was gone. Stunned, Sho stood and looked confused until he heard the dreaded call of: '_Waiiiiiiiiiiteeerr!_' Sighing, the former GM returned to his job, wondering just how strange his life was going to get.

- - -

The first thing he noticed when he got home was that there was no food cooking. Normally, Haruhi had something on the stove, ready for them to eat in perfect silence before they went to bed. Today, however, the kitchen was empty. Sho wondered if maybe his assistant had gone shopping. Perhaps she had gotten tired of cooking and was getting something for them to eat from a local restaurant. He sighed, collapsing into the green armchair in their small living room, and closed his eyes to wait for her return.

Only she didn't come.

After an hour, Sho got a little worried.

After two hours, he started to fret.

Maybe the Reapers had caught up with her, given her a hard time? Maybe she had gotten lost, or hurt, or--

_Why am I worried? I make more than enough to support myself..._ He thought, trying to squash the welling panic inside him, but he had simply changed too much, and now he actually cared. It was a pain in the ass. He was about to storm out of the door to go look for her when he spotted a note on the table. Picking it up, he recognized Haruhi's long, spindly writing.

_Minamimoto-sensei,_

_You've improved quite a bit. So much so that your limp is barely noticable. It appears to me that is no longer painful for you to walk, and I see no chance of relapse at this point. And so, since I am aware that you prefer autonomy, I take your leave now, and wish you the best. I've left a list of recipies in the cabinet, so that if you feel like cooking something extravagant, you will have something available. I've taken a small portion of my earned money, so that I may find myself new lodgings for a while, but I left the majority in the black tin in the back of the pantry. _

_Best of wishes,_

_Tamasaki-san_

Uncertain of what else to do, Sho stared at the note long after he had finished reading it. What was there to say? On paper, it sounded perfectly logical. He had told her that he needed no assistant, and now that it was clear to her that he no longer required her, she left. On paper, it made sense. In the tangled mess of emotions of his mind, it felt like a betrayal. But why? Haruhi and he rarely spoke. They spent less than a few hours together in the period of a day. Yet the thought of life without her was painful somehow, like missing a lung. Realizing this, another wave of anger crashed over him. How dare she do this? How dare she, the assistant, presume to know when it was time for her to leave?

Sho pushed his way out of the door, angrily slipping into the UG. Despite the danger it caused him, he could search much easier in the UG than in the RG, where his powers were so weakened. After a quick scan of the area, he discovered that the girl had headed north, past the Shibu Department Store. Summoning a group of Noise, he sent them out in search of her, choosing to head off to Towa Records. As he entered the area, however, he heard a familiar chuckle.

"So the great Grim Heaper has a heart, after all," came the voice. A figure reclined lazily upon the side of the records store, a particularly nasty smile upon his face. Immediately, Minamimoto tensed, ready for a fight, but the Composer merely waved his hand. "No, Minamimoto, I did not come to fight, merely to watch." He raised a hand to his hair, brushing lock aside. "If I had intended to erase you, I would have. Instead, I incapacitated you for as long as I required." His expression softened, his eyes saddening. "Besides, I am well aware of how affection can change a person."

"Affection?" Sho had relaxed, but still his face was drawn up in a snarl. "Affection for what?"

"Tamasaki-san, of course," Joshua replied, the smile taking on its characteristic snideness. "Don't even try to deny it, Minamimoto. In any other case, you would have shrugged off your other's disappearance. Yet in this one special case, you feel a need, _a compulsion_, to go and retrieve her. Because you can do nothing else." Behind the smile, Sho saw a weakness, a plea. He realized that there was much more at stake here than just his own happiness.

"I wouldn't call it affection. FOIL, man. I just know that my equation simply isn't balanced without her variable present." Sho shrugged. "I'm not quite sure what the solution is yet, but the best way is to solve the equation from beginning to end." He frowned at the boy before him. "However, that doesn't explain why you care. Or why you're running around looking like that." He swept a tan hand in an indication of the Composer's appearance.

Joshua responded with a shrug of his own. "Time will tell, I suppose. Call it...research." He walked past Minamimoto, his face akin to a mask. "Good luck."

And he was gone, leaving only a white haze to the air. Sho stared at the spot where he had stood only a moment before, and pondered on what the Composer could have meant. There was more to the whole thing that at first seemed apparent. Suddenly, Sho felt like a very misused lab rat. He didn't have very long to brood, however, since within a few minutes, one of the Noise he had summoned appeared. It urged for him to follow as it sped off in the direction of the Underpass, which he did, running after the mink as it whirled along its way. Finally it stopped at Cat Street, looking pointedly towards the cafe located at the end.

At the door of the cafe, looking incredibly pathetic, stood Haruhi, staring into the window.

Sho approached slowly, wondering what he was going to say. He stopped behind her, looking at her expression in the window. It was stark, empty of all but an overwhelming sadness. She was silent for a minute before sighing.

"When I really need one of Hanekoma-san's expressos, he, of course, is not there." He voice lowered, tinged with what seemed a mix of disappointment and annoyance. "In fact, it's been closed for nearly a year." She turned, her face still closed. "Why are you here? Did I not leave you enough?" Haruhi began to search her pockets, pulling out a few large yen pins. "Do you need more?"

That was it. No longer could he take the closed expression, the professionalism, the exuding sadness. He slipped back into the RG, where Haruhi herself resided, and fixed an angry eye upon her. "_t_=thirty seconds. Get into the UG, stat." She stared up at him, her eyes frightened, but did as she was told. As soon as she changed worlds, he followed suit, glaring down at her. "Hold still," he said. From his pocket, he pulled out a tattered graffiti-feather, releasing its power. Energy shot through his limbs, extending, changing, and splitting his existence into the two dimensions of Noise. Now in his _Leo Cantus_ form, he scooped up his frightened assistant, sprinting across Shibuya. When he reached Pork City, he took a running leap. They barely made the roof, but as he set Haruhi down and reverted back to his human form, he was content with the thought that she was safe.

Haruhi just sat on the roof, looking fearfully upon the more powerful Reaper. Minamimoto shot her an angry look and sat, looking, for all his efforts, like he was going to murder someone. Obviously, Haruhi was thinking along those lines. It was clear on her face.

"So," the male Reaper started, trying his best to calm himself. "What gave you the impression that you had to leave?"

"Did you read my note?" she asked, looking somewhat hurt. When Minamimoto nodded, she sighed. "It was explanatory enough, wasn't it?"

Sho shook his head, chuckling bitterly. "Not really, no. It was a bunch of waffle."

Haruhi appeared confused. "Waffle? Why would you say that?"

"Because you didn't give an actual reason for leaving. Just like you never gave a real reason for helping me." He looked up at her, eyes hopeful. Haruhi, however, just shook her head.

"You wouldn't want to know." She cast her gaze to the surface where she sat. Sho leaned forward, pushing on her shoulder.

"No. I do." She glanced up at him, her eyes welling with tears. Slowly, she stood, walking up to the edge of the building. She stared downwards.

"I..." Her voice faltered, her gaze focused on the ground below. Sho, knowing her history, got up to comfort her, and found himself doing something he hadn't done in many years.

He folded his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace, smiling gently. At his shoulder, her tears flowed freely. The wetness was something of a comfort, for it signified that the mask was gone. For an eternity, Sho held her in his arms, smiling all the while. The soft part of his mind had taken over, and for the first time in a very long while, Sho felt content with his life. In his arms, Haruhi blubbered, clutching at his chest like a frightened child. All was well.

Until a figure stepped from the shadows, flashing the hated smile. Joshua snapped, and suddenly the world was falling, he was falling, and Haruhi, still clutching at his chest, was falling as well.

Sho fumbled through his pockets, trying to locate his graffiti-feather. It, however, was nowhere to be found, and Sho began to panic. In his arms, Haruhi began to hyperventilate, her eyes fixed on the ground that was speeding towards them. Or rather, they towards it. When it became known to him that his feather was nowhere in reach, Sho gave in to the idea that they were going to die. Well, at least he was. But he would die with Haruhi in his arms, and at least he had that.

Ten feet from the ground, Sho motioned to kiss the top of Haruhi's head. Instead, he looked into the eyes of a feral animal, still hyperventilating. Before his eyes, she pulled a delicate blue graffiti-feather from a spot above her heart. Surprise flashed in both of their eyes, and then there was nothing but light.

- - -

A/N: Woah. First author's note I've written in a while, let me tell you. But I felt it necessary in this case, even if it kinda breaks the mood of the ending. To those who have already read my other two parts to the Succession series, you'll probably have noticed that the story jumps around a bit. (To those of you who haven't, I'd highly suggest that you read Furious Angels and Succession. I'm intentionally writing all of the parts of the story so that they can stand alone, but you really get a much better experience if you read the whole thing.) Sorry about that. I've been having issues with writing some of the stories, since I have the idea, but just have no idea how to write them out. But on the subject of this specific story, I feel that I owe you an explanation. A lot of this story, especially the ending, makes very little sense. I'm truly sorry about that. Unfortunately, this specific installment of the series has a partner fic that I simply can't figure out how to write. I'm sure that you who write TWEWY fics probably have had some issues on how to write Yoshiya, and I'm simply hitting a wall on this. It's so hard to find exactly what drives him, and the harder I try, the stupider it sounds. I'm really trying, though, and I hope to have Only Me (The Joshua x Rhyme partner fic that explains most of what is so ambiguous here) out very soon. 'Course, as I'm typing this, I'm actually without internet access, so by the time I actually get wired to the net, I might have Only Me done (curse you, mountains, for making it impossible for me to get internet access from almost everyone!).

CAUTION: SPOILER ALERT

To those who care, I'm going to also include a timeline for the Succession series, including stories that haven't been worked on and are still in the planning stage. You ready?

Furious Angels- Kariya x Uzuki fic, completed. The story that kicks it all off. Slightly AU, giving the past of both Kariya and Uzuki.

Unbalanced- This fic! Sho x OC (yes, yes, shoot me if you must. Unfortunately, there were no canonical characters that could bring this fic to fruition)

Only Me- Joshua x Rhyme, still being written. Crucial to motivations for several characters (now you see why I'm having such problems!), and also central to one of my favorite pairings. About 2.5 years after the events of the game. Inspired by the Rob Dougan song.

Succession- Light Kariya x Uzuki, completed. A basic story setting up the whole purpose of the series, the evolution and change of leadership in the UG. Somewhat supplemental to Furious Angels.

Five Years- Possible Neku x Shiki, Suggested (maybe outright, depending on how it goes) Joshua x Rhyme, Possible Beat pairing, but I'm not that far yet, on hiatus until I finish Only Me. The ascension of the new Reapers, involving untimely deaths and a change in ownership of a certain cafe. Title likely to change.

Untitled- Neku x Shiki, Joshua x Rhyme, Possible Beat pairing, depending on how the series goes, Sho x OC, still in the planning stage. More on the UG after a certain group takes over. Angsty attempts of relationships between Angels and Reapers. Hordes of OCs, since I need new Players.

ReLoad- OC...everything, in a basic planning stage, but likely to be dumped. Supposed to happen many years after the game, after Neku and the others are long since made Angels and are frolicking happily around the Higher Realm with Hanekoma and friends. Depending on how well the series goes, and if my OCs are liked at all, this may or may not be written.

So that's what I've got planned as of yet. I'm thinking of writing a Hanekoma-centric fic, but I don't have any real idea what to do with it, and to be honest, I'm having enough trouble trying to write him in Five Years as it is. To those who read on this long, opinions on what I've got planned are much appreciated. Hopefully you will forgive me and my strange love of OCs.

'Till next time, fair reader!


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